Love is for Children: A Black Widow Fanfic
by Laughing-Nat
Summary: It's been almost a year since the events of Washington DC and Natasha Romanoff is back in business with the Avengers, alongside her newly-found lover, Clint Barton. After a severe brain damage from a mission, Clint's memories become misplaced. He forgets Nat, who'd do anything to get him back. But maybe she has it all wrong, because he remembers loving another woman, Laura Barton.
1. Prologue

**A FEW DAYS AFTER WASHINGTON D.C.**

The mission was over. Natasha sighed and leaned on Clint's shoulder. He was here with her. The Helicariers would've shot him down. She wasn't just fighting only for Steve or SHIELD or even herself out there... Clint was on her mind then, and now.

He would never leave her; that's what he promised. She twisted her arrow necklace around and smiled a bit.

"Natasha?" Clint said.

She straightened up and looked at him. "Yes?"

He hesitated.

"I love you." He told her silently.

Her eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. "...you love me?" She echoed. The last time someone ever loved her was in the Red Room, in the Soviets. The Winter Soldier. She recalled encountering him again. This time he was a ghost. He was terrifying. He was nothing like she'd known him to be before.

 _Love_ was terrifying. Anything could happen. Caring about someone was considered a weakness in the Red Room. Weak. She wasn't weak. She was the Black Widow. But she wasn't in the Red Room anymore. But it was a part of her. It would always be a part of her.

She wasn't sure what to say. She was speechless. She was in shock. She looked away.

Nat stared at the ground and clutched both of her hands together. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She felt a blush creep across her face. She loved him. She loved him and it was not okay. It was not okay to her. Goddammit, she felt like a clueless child. She can't be like that. No, not now. Not here. Not around him.

Taking a deep breath she looked at Clint and quietly replied, "Is it okay if I love you too?" She bit her lip nervously. Love. Love was for children, but he smiled.

"Yes." He said.

It was okay. It was okay to him. The butterflies fluttered faster. She should kiss him.

Then again, she shouldn't. She was scared.

 _Being afraid is also a weakness, Natasha._ She told herself. She shouldn't give in to her fear. She leaned forward and she kissed him full on the lips.

He kissed her back.

And her fear was gone.

 _If love was for children,_ she thought, _than am I a child?_


	2. Chapter One: The Mission

Natasha Romanoff smirked at Clint Barton and held up a hand. "Care for another round Hawkeye?" She knew he wouldn't be able to beat her in combat. No one could. The Red Room made sure that she wouldn't ever be outwitted or overpowered. She was made of marble.

"No, I'm good." He said. "We did five spars so far, I'm not gonna be able to win anytime soon."

"Going easy on me?" She grinned playfully and sipped some of her water.

"No." He shook his head, denying it.

"Pulling your punches?" She persisted. That was something he'd do.

"You know I'm never going to hurt you purposely, Nat." He said matter-of-factly.

She laughed quietly, "I'm not fragile, Barton." She jutted out her chin. She had saved his ass more than once.

"I know that." He said, looking at her. "And I believe it." The corners of her mouth turned up. It had been a few months since he confessed his love towards her. A few short months. She was... grateful that he had done so. She was relieved that she had also confessed it to him. She hadn't regretted it just yet.

"Agent Barton. Miss Romanoff." Maria Hill said formally. She stood at the doorway warily. She held a vanilla colored folder tightly. Her brown hair was tied up in a sloppy ponytail. She looked tired.

"What is it?" Natasha asked, turning serious. Hill was never around for fun and games - unless, of course, she was off work.

"Level Seven, Soviet thugs harboring stolen alien technology." She got right to the point, and handed her file to Clint.

"Looks serious." He remarked as he flipped through the pages. He glanced at Natasha. She leaned over his shoulder to take a peek. A photograph of some kind of gun was pinned to the corner of the page with a paperclip. A location was jotted down. Somewhere in Europe.

"It is serious. If one thing goes wrong, someone will get killed." Maria said, looking at Nat. "The Avengers will be on the case too, I thought I'd notify you two first though."

"We'll be there." Natasha replied. "We're Avengers, after all."

"It's what we do." Clint added. Maria nodded and smiled slightly.

Natasha nodded gratefully at Hill and then turned to Clint. "Let's-"

"Suit up." He finished for her.

Steve Rogers was always the one giving orders, and nobody in the Avengers questioned them but Stark.

"Nat, you're not going to be on the field." Steve told the redhead sternly.

Natasha frowned up at him. "Why?" She questioned him.

"Fury's orders," Steve abruptly replied.

"Since when do we listen to Fury?" Nat said. She squinted at Steve with her bright green eyes. There's no way she was listening to Fury. No way.

"Nat. _We_ need you to stay here. With Banner." Steve told her, motioning to the rest of the Avengers: Stark, Clint and Bruce. Natasha glanced at Bruce Banner and scowled.

"Steve, he's fine here. He won't go green. Besides, you guys need me. I know about this kind of stuff. I can't just sit on my ass and wait for you guys to come back." She told him in a low whisper. She had first hand experience with the Soviets. These kind of things got messy. The Avengers needed her.

"You'll be right here." Steve said, not acknowledging what she just said.

Natasha sighed in defeat and crossed her arms. "This time only?"

"Yes." He replied. "Trust me."

"You know I do." Natasha had never really trusted anyone besides Clint. But as she looked at Steve she knew that it wasn't that way anymore. "But if something goes wrong, I'm coming out there with you." Nat said firmly. No one could stop her from coming out on the battlefield if she had to.

Natasha activated her earpiece and paced to the other side of the quinjet nervously. Her shoes ticked on the floor like a clock. "Clint?" She called through the microphone.

"Nat, where are you?" Natasha heard him reply.

She smiled, "How bad is it out there?"

"Thirteen hostages. Lethal weapons. And I got a bow and arrow. It's wonderful. I can't wait till they invite us to tea." He said sarcastically. "Now where the hell are you?"

"I'm confined to the quinjet with Banner, thanks to Rogers." She answered, glancing behind her, at Bruce.

"Why?" He asked. A thousand possible answers clouded her mind.

 _Maybe the Avengers don't trust me like I thought they did... or maybe I need to watch Bruce - the other guy._ Bruce had almost killed her once. The thought of being confined in the quinjet with the Hulk scared her half to death. She sighed.

"I don't know." She replied. Natasha heard gunfire from Clint's mic and bit her lip. She should be out there with him. Helping him. She could take down half the men easily.

She flopped down beside Bruce and sighed. They'll be fine. Clint will be alright. He can take care of himself. He's a master assassin, after all. She muted her mic and stared off.

"Miss Romanoff?" Bruce Banner asked her, concerned.

Natasha jumped and looked at him quickly, "They're fine."

"I understand that. But are you fine?" God, he sounded like he was coaxing a child.

Natasha forced a smile, "I'm okay." She was always okay, that's the way it was with her.

Bruce smiled understandingly. "Are you sure? Because if you need the Hulk more than the Avengers do, then it's pretty serious business." The florescent light from the light-bulb shone off of his glasses. She blinked and looked away, the reflection hurting her eyes.

"Is that what this is about?" She asked him, standing up.

"Is it?" He countered. He was just as clueless as her.

"I was trained to rely on myself." She chided. She didn't need anyone to help her. Especially not the unpredictable Hulk. No. Nat paced around the jet again, her boots clinking on the metal ground loudly. She wanted to end the conversation. Anything she says could possibly tick him off and then the Hulk... The Hulk could be released on her comrades.

She stopped her train of thoughts right there.

"Everyone needs help at one point." He pointed out.

"Even the Hulk? Because if that's the case, then it's pretty serious business." She smiled, hoping she'd lighten the mood up.

"I'm only around to help." He looked at her sadly. "I don't need help."

 _Of course he doesn't._ She told herself.

"And I don't need help either." She remarked. They were equal now. Conversation. Over.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

Suddenly an electric shock shot through her. Screaming, she pressed her hands to her ears, stumbling forward. _"Nat!"_

She felt arms steadying her. Black dotted her vision. She blinked. The room distorted into a blur of colors. She yanked out her earpiece.

And it all stopped. She rubbed her forehead and cursed in Russian.

 _It had stopped._ She looked at her earpiece questioningly. _Alien technology, they said..._

And then it hit her.

"C-Clint..." She grabbed Bruce's shoulders and pushed herself away dizzily. "Something's wrong with him... I-I was connected to him." She held up the earpiece. It was covered in blood.

"Natasha." The doctor grabbed her shoulders tightly.

"Banner, I need to get out there." She set her jaw. "What's the overview?"

"Rogers is in the hostiles' base with Stark, Barton's out on the field covering for them." He replied.

 _Why didn't I know this information?_ She thought angrily.

Natasha grabbed her gauntlets and opened the quinjet's door. Cold winds christened the air.

"Natasha, wait." Bruce grabbed her arm. She whirled around to face him. "Be careful..." He said.

"I always am." She smirked.

"Oh, yes, sure you are." He said sarcastically. Everyone knew it was a lie. "Just don't kill yourself in the process."

"I won't."

Natasha sprinted across the snowy hill as fast as she could. She heard the quinjet's door shut with a metallic bang. _Alien technology, that's what it was. It must've transferred through Barton's_ _communication signals and affected me._ Natasha looked around, spotting a limp figure in the snow. Clint.

Natasha ran toward him. Her heart sped up and thumped loudly against her chest. She looked around for someone, anybody. It was all clear. No Avengers. Just a blank white carpet of snow with little green blades of grass peeking out.

"Clint!" She screamed. She had no communicator, no connection to the rest of her team. She was almost to him. Just a few more yards...

A blue blast hit her. Her knees gave way and she collapsed into the snow. Breathing heavily, she propped herself up with her elbows, turning over to see the damage. She heard another blast – towards her. She felt a thick, cool liquid gush slowly over her skin. A stinging pain erupted through her body. She blacked out.


	3. Chapter Two: The Hospital

CHAPTER TWO: THE HOSPITAL

 **Beep. Beep. Beep.**

Natasha opened her eyes slightly and groaned, feeling feeble and awfully ill. IV's were injected under her skin. A heart rate monitor was hooked up to her bed, frequently ringing out a sharp sound. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Her ears throbbed.

She was in a hospital room.

Blood was smeared across her starch white hospital gown. She glanced at it and shut her eyes tight, "Oh my God." She swore to herself. Memories of her sterilization swirled through her head in a flash. She wanted to throw up.

"Nat."

She looked over to her left, seeing a familiar super soldier. Relief flooded through her. As much as she hated to admit it, she didn't like being alone. Especially when she was hurt.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He asked her.

"Clint was down." She replied loudly, starting to sit up. The cuts on her stomach stung like fire. She sucked in a sharp breath. Steve pushed her back down quickly, his eyes wide.

"Goddamn it, Rogers! I'm fine." She snapped, shoving herself back up weakly. Her joints ached with the strain.

"No, you're not." He said, scowling.

"Yes I am." She lied. Her vocal chords throbbed in pain.

"They doctors are almost done with you, Natasha." He explained.

"What happened?" She gave in and collapsed back down.

"You tore some tissue and electrocuted yourself." He replied.

"I wasn't the one shooting." She said indignantly, staring up at the ceiling. Lines crisscrossed over the pale cement in a dizzying pattern.

"I know. But it was your decision to leave the quinjet." He said bitterly. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I told you I'd come out if something went wrong, Steve." She smiled slightly. "And something went wrong."

"I know." He looked out the window absently. The street was busy and a pale iridescent sky cupped over it. The white clouds reflected into his gentle blue eyes like fog.

"You can't always protect me, Rogers." She told him.

"Sometimes I wish I could." He replied, glancing at her.

He reached over and held her hand firmly. She looked at him. He wasn't angry. He wasn't sad. She couldn't decipher what it was in his gaze but it made her feel safe.

Of course, she didn't need it.

She looked away.

"Where's Barton?" She spoke up.

"He's under operation. The blast..." Steve stopped. Nat's heart almost stopped. Steve didn't continue.

"What happened?"

"Nat, he'll be fine." Steve attempted to comfort her.

"How do you know, Steve?" Natasha asked him.

"I don't." He replied. "But whatever happens, I'll be here for you."

The next few hours were the same routine - she'd wake up, get operated on, and then pass out. This time it was different.

Natasha woke up suddenly. The IV's were gone.

"How are you feeling Miss Romanoff?" A woman asked.

Natasha propped herself up with an arm and looked up. Dr. Helen Chu was there. "I'm fine." She replied with a raspy voice. God, she was tired. It must be the anesthesia drugs wearing off.

Natasha rubbed her eyes and stretched.

"You are almost done. There's a bathroom over there if you need it." Dr. Chu pointed to a corner of the room with her pen. "You will be released in about thirty minutes. There are some forms at the front desk that you need to fill out." The doctor smiled.

"Thank you." Natasha muttered.

The bathroom was small and it's lighting was choppy, with a sort of yellowish tint to it. Natasha glanced in the mirror. Her usually bright eyes were dull and sunken, and her eyelashes cast dark willowy shadows onto her temples. Her green eyes were rimmed in a shiny red color. Dark purple circles ringed under her eyes. Her skin was pale white.

She was finally free of the starched gown and into some of her clothes that Steve dropped off. Her stomach hurt like hell. She lifted her white top and examined the damage. Two dusty pink, jagged lines were there. Outlining them was a deep shade of violet.

Natasha groaned. She was an idiot.

A light tap at the door startled her. She let go of the fabric of her shirt and opened the door quietly.

"I thought I'd pick you up." Steve said. She smiled.

"If it isn't the high and mighty Black Widow back from the dead," Tony stark smugly remarked. Natasha frowned at the sarcasm in his voice and looked away. She was cooped up in the Avengers Tower, waiting for Clint's medical papers which were on a four hour delay. Nobody had told her what had happened to Barton. Nobody was sure of anything yet.

"Shut up, Stark." Steve snapped, unusually edgy. Tony shrugged and smirked. Natasha wanted to yell at Tony, but she held her tongue. _How could he be so ignorant?_ Barton was hurt, and Tony couldn't be serious about it for one goddamn second. She turned her attention to Steve.

"How is Clint doing?" She inquired, sipping some of her bitter black coffee. Steve crossed his arms and shuffled his feet. He looked like he was deep in thought.

"He's not up yet." He said after a moment of silence. Tony watched quietly. Natasha leaned back in her seat.

"When can I see him?" She asked.

"I booked a visit for you, Nat." Tony said kindly. Natasha looked at him in surprise.

"Y-You have?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, I have, Agent Romanoff." He replied, grinning.

Natasha forced a smile. "What time?"

"Three o'clock," He replied.

Natasha glanced at the clock, "Oh my God, that's ten minutes from now!" She exclaimed. Her eyes widened in delight.

"Look who's running late." Tony joked. Natasha jumped up and grabbed her car keys.

"Thank you, Tony." She told him, smiling brightly. She ran out the door.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., book an appointment for Natasha Romanoff. Three o'clock. Harlem Hospital. For the patient Clint Barton." Tony said as soon as she was gone.

"Yes, sir." J.A.R.V.I.S. replied. Steve raised an eyebrow at Tony.

"What? I needed to cheer her up. That woman was the definition of a storm cloud." Tony defended himself. He still had a heart, after all.

"I have an appointment for Clint. Clint Barton." Natasha stuttered over her words as she leaned over the desk at the front counter eagerly. The elderly man at the desk looked up at her in surprise.

"Do you have a time?" He asked her. His name tag glinted in the sunlight that was streaming from the window. What looked like the name 'Stan Lee' was sloppily written on there.

"Yes. Right now." She replied. "I'm Nata-"

"You're the Black Widow! _The_ Black Widow!" He exclaimed. "Can I get a signature when you're done?" The Black Widow looked at him strangely.

"Sure." She scooped up her own name tag. Her mind raced. She usually had all the time in the world, but now was different. Natasha didn't want to do small talk. "What room is he in?"

'Stan Lee' pointed behind her towards two white French doors. "Right that way, in Room 204." Natasha nodded thankfully and disappeared through the doors.

The hallway was long and narrow. She glanced at each tall, tapered door. Shiny, dwindling metal numbers were tacked up onto their frames. Room 200, 201, 202... Natasha saw the numbers 204 glint boldly into her peripheral vision. She turned.

The door was slightly opened. Her fingers traced the knob nervously.

Now that she was here, she was afraid. Afraid of what she'll see. She was afraid of hearing about what had happened, afraid of the loss. But she had dealt with loss before.

She pushed the door open.

The room was dark. A muffled beeping sound could be heard.

Clint was unconscious. He looked a bit better than she thought he'd be. His face donned a few bruises and scratches that were a deep shade of purple. Blood was streaming from his nose. She looked around, wondering when the last time the nurses checked on him was. The room was silent.

A bumble bee buzzed around the window. Rain smacked against the cold, clear glass. The panels projected a soft gray lighting into the room.

Natasha perched next to Clint. She felt a little better. She felt peaceful. She ran her fingers through his hair and listened to the rain, and the beeping, and him breathing.

She felt a lot better.

"Natasha," She recognized that voice.

She whipped around, her rose colored hair falling down her shoulders abruptly. Nick Fury stared at her. "Nick." She acknowledged him with a nod, quite annoyed that he had interrupted her thoughts.

"Natasha, there's something I need to discuss with you."

Natasha bit her lip nervously and stood up. Her knees were sore.

"Something's wrong with Clint." He continued.

 **HELLO EVERYONE. SOMEBODY ASKED ME ANONYMOUSLY IF THIS STORY FOLLOWS THE CANON. AND SINCE I WASN'T ABLE TO REPLY, I DECIDED TO ANSWER HERE. THIS STORY IS MY VERSION OF HOW CLINT BARTON GOT HIS FAMILY IN AGE OF ULTRON - AND IT IS ABOUT NATASHA'S CONNECTION TO BRUCE BANNER IN AGE OF ULTRON. THIS STORY DOES APPLY TO THE CANON, BUT IT IS ONLY BASED ON MY HEADCANNONS.**


	4. Chapter Three: Broken Memories

Time stood still as Natasha braced herself. Feeling like a broken doll, she collapsed back down next to Clint. She looked up at Nick expectantly with her shiny green eyes, waiting for more. She was ready for anything.

"We almost lost him - twice." Nick Fury told her. His words were loud and they bounced off the walls sharply. She had never felt smaller than now. Her heart was slowly sinking with each word.

"Is he going to die?" She asked him quietly. _Her_ words were fragile and frail.

"No, dying isn't an option for him. But he suffers from a severe brain injury. He won't recall anything... All we can do is to reprogram his mind. He will remember everything differently after that - but he'll remember nonetheless." Nick said. He regretted having to be the one to tell Nat all of this.

"No," Natasha refused. She felt like a lost child. She wanted this, but at the same time she didn't. Reprogram his mind? She didn't know what that was. It sounded like something Hydra would do to the Soldier.

"I'm sorry Natasha... It's the only thing we can do." Nick said grimly. He didn't sound very sorry to her. She winced.

"B-But he won't remember me." Natasha argued. She was full of pain and remorse. She knew it was selfish to be this way. She knew nothing would change no matter how much she spoke up.

But she had spoken up anyways.

"No, he will remember you – sometime." Nick explained. "His memories will be fogged up for the next few days. But when they are clear, he will only remember being friends with you. He won't remember loving you..."

 _I can deal with that, right? I could make him love me again..._ She trembled and ripped up her cuticles.

"He will remember loving another woman," He continued, "Having a life with _her_."

Nat's throat closed up, "Another woman?" Her heart dropped. She shook her head, biting her lip.

She remembered the Soldier, how he had loved her so. Her lips quivered. She had loved him up until the day he had forgotten who she was. He was wiped... One day she had him, the next he was gone. He became the very thing she thought he'd never be - an emotionless killer. She's had firsthand experience with him, and she'd never forget it. The very next day after that, she was memory-wiped too. They were ripped apart forever. She was never able to get herself – or him back, no matter how hard she tried.

"It's for his safety, Natasha."

Natasha snapped out of her thoughts. Nick caught her gaze. She set her jaw. She needed to be strong for Clint, and everyone else. That's what she was known for – being a cold-hearted Widow. Natasha gulped and nodded firmly. _For his safety._ It broke her heart in half.

"Alright," Natasha said, finally. "Whatever it takes to keep him safe," Her voice cracked. "Is that all?" Nat asked him, her words slurring together.

"Yes."

Natasha got up and darted out of the room just as cold tears welled up in her eyes. She swiped them away angrily, cursing in Russian. She furrowed her brows and straightened up. _Love is for children... Love is for children... Love is for children..._ She told herself over and over again. _I am not a child._

That was funny, she sure as hell felt like one. Long ago, she was once a little girl who loved ballet shoes and pink crayons. That Natasha Romanoff is gone - she was gone for quite some time, and Nat wanted to keep it that way.

"Natasha," Fury followed her out. Natasha didn't respond, she was afraid that she would break down. "I'm sorry I had to tell you that."

"Damn you," She said icily.

"It's hard for everyone," He placed his hand on her shoulder. She stopped and looked up at him.

"I know, Fury." She smiled. "I can handle this. I have before, over and over again. This time it's no different from last time, thank you very much."

She tore away and ambled off, knowing her lies well. This had happened a lot before, yes it has. Can she handle it? She didn't know.

She thought her past at the KGB had left her, but she realized she probably would never be free of it. It was a curse.

"Laura Barton," Steve said, tossing a manila envelope tangled with red-and-gold thread onto the desk. A thin, glossy photograph slid out, onto the glass surface of the table.

"...Laura?" Natasha looked at the picture. A petite woman with warm brown eyes and long brunette hair smiled up at her from the dark matte ink that she was made from. Natasha frowned down at the creature of ink and dust. Laura. Laura Barton was nothing, just a fantasy from Clint's mind. Why were they provoking this and encouraging it? Natasha looked up at Steve, "So you knew."

"I did know, Tasha. But only after Nick called me," Steve pointed to a shiny jet black phone that rested atop of a cold granite cabinet nestled in the corner of the office. Natasha looked back at him.

"So who is this woman? Why is her last name ' _Barton_ ,' Steve?" Natasha said, her words cold.

"Her last name was Hale. They changed it." Steve said all too carelessly.

"Who's 'they'?" Was it Hydra, or perhaps the Avengers? She looked back at the girl in the photograph. The sun's rays feathered the edges of the glossed material. She looked almost angelic this time.

"Nick – what's left of S.H.I.E.L.D.," He replied.

"You think this is okay?" She snapped, "Taking a person from who they are and sticking them into some kind of alternate reality, where they are nothing but what you made them to be?" She was almost yelling now. She let the photo billow to the ground and looked up at Steve.

"I didn't say I agreed with it..." Her words had struck a chord with him. He thought of Bucky... "But it wasn't my choice."

"What did they do to Laura Hale?"

"Reprogramming," He said, "The same as what they are doing to Clint."

"Do they think they can just reprogram a person so they can be a puppet on strings, to help their plans go smoothly?" Natasha grabbed the envelope, and picked up the photograph, jamming them both into a drawer. "I cannot accept this." She reached into the yellow envelope and pulled out a report card about Laura.

"Natasha, Laura's had brain damage since she was a little girl. This is what healed her."

"So you're just going to sugar-coat all the bad shit with the good deeds that they had done?" She snapped, starting to leave. Steve stopped her. "For God's sake, just leave me alone, Rogers!"

"I am sorry, Natasha, but this isn't anything that I wanted it to be." He replied, dead serious.

"It's not anything that I want it to be either." She mumbled. It wasn't Steve's fault, after all. The gentle soldier hugged her tightly. She embraced him, letting her tears tumble down her face like waterfalls. Natasha Romanoff had cried only a few times in her life. She kept her feelings under tabs most of the time, she liked it that way. But it was okay to cry now...

Nat felt like a spring garden after a drowsy, miserable rain. A garden with two green blossoms, a bunch of curvy red roses and white little daisies, that is. The point is - she felt happier.

"I owe you, Rogers." She said to him, holding his hand. Their fingers linked together in a satisfying way. They entered the lobby of the Avengers Tower.

"How was your visit, Gingersnap?" Tony asked her. He was perched on the couch, watching a children's comedy show.

Natasha looked at him, amused. "You're too old to be watching cartoons, Tony!"

"No, you're never too old for this. Blame Pepper," He paused his cartoon sitcom to look at her. She hoped that her eyes weren't all red and puffy from crying, and that the tears that were streaming down her cheeks earlier weren't shining in the light.

"Okay, Stark." She smirked.

Pepper glanced up from the kitchen. "Nat, you look so worn out." She said gently. Pepper's Mars orange hair was clipped back with silver metal barrettes.

"I'm fine, Pepper." Natasha replied.

"How about you sit down – dinner is almost ready." Pepper ignored Nat's comment. "Thor has been asking me when it will be finished for the past thirty minutes, almost." Pepper rolled her crystal blue eyes and laughed.

"Thor?" Natasha looked around for the Norse God. "Where is he?" Thor wasn't around often.

"He was watching that with Tony a while ago... now I don't know!" Pepper replied.

"Lady Natasha!" Thor's loud voice boomed. He embraced Natasha tightly, lifting her off the ground.

She tapped his shoulder hoping for a referee. "Thor, what kind of hug is this? I can't even reach the ground!" She couldn't even breathe, to be honest.

"I hope our Hawk friend is well." He set her down.

"Oh, he's alright, absolutely." Natasha said, trying to stay cheerful for her friends.

"That is good to hear, sweetie." Pepper smiled, handing Natasha some soup.

"Thanks, Peps."

"Anytime, hon." Pepper smiled and looked at Thor, annoyed. "Dinner is in there." She pointed to the kitchen.

"You have my thanks, Lady Potts." Thor said and wandered off in the direction that Pepper pointed. Natasha flinched as she heard loud bangs come from the kitchen.

"Is he wearing you out?" She asked Pepper.

"Oh, no – I deal with Tony almost every day of my life. Thor's a bit of fun to have around," She smiled.

"I'm fun too." Tony said.

Pepper blushed and nodded, "That's true."

Natasha laughed - and, like she said, laughter is medicine. It made her felt better; she could finally forget the awful events for one night...


	5. Chapter Four: The Safe House

It almost seemed, to Natasha, that Steve Rogers was trying too hard to cheer her up. He didn't talk much – it was as if he was in his own little world. But his actions and words around her were forced – a strange, robotically cheerful demeanor that scared her.

Steve was almost absent around the other Avengers, full of guilt surrounding the tragedy of Bucky and whatnot - it entrapped his mind like a Flytrap, or a sticky spider's web...

Natasha had few of her own webs in her life. She was usually the one creating them. They called her "Black Widow" for no little cause. She had killed for that title. The post-traumatic stress that the Red Room gave her was her ownweb that she was tangled within for almost a whole lifetime.

 _It hurt._

It hurt to be like that.

The KGB had offered a different kind of spider's silk to her during her time there. It wasn't the web - it was more like a marionette's strings.

 _I had strings._

The strings were still there, sort of. But it seemed as if the puppeteer was gone. He was gone for a long, long time.

 _But now I'm free..._

Yet, Natasha's memories always flooded the surface during the most unnecessary times. Most of them were unclear and vague, and when she recalled them it was like holding a soap bubble in her hand and trying not to burst it.

The memories themselves were colorful and reflective – many different shades of violets and pinks dazzled the lens of them in an inhuman manner. Every voice that was spoken inside of them had an echoing tone. She wondered if Clint had the same problem now that he was awake.

 _Now that he was remembering._

Natasha had re-visited the hospital twice to see him. Mr. Lee wasn't there either time.

Most of her conversations with Clint were kept to a minimum. It was small talk.

 _It was talking with a stranger._

"Hi," Natasha said to Clint softly. "How was your day?" She was worn out, like an old, threadbare teddy bear that was overused for too long.

"It was fine." He said almost bitterly, his voice thick with fever. He looked over to her. "What about you?"

"Oh, mine?" She faked a little smile, "Not better than yours, no doubt."

"What did you say your name was?" Clint asked.

"N-Natasha," Natasha stammered. The nurses had warned her about little things like this. It was only a few days since the operation and Natasha acknowledged that respectfully. She didn't want to overwhelm Clint, no matter how much she wanted him back.

"Nice name. I'm-"

"Clint! Yes I know, you told me yesterday, Barton. But the thing is; I've always known that."

He looked a little confused, so she stopped at that.

"M-Miss," A young nurse with curly blond hair smiled politely, "I'm afraid you cannot stay any longer."

"I understand." Natasha gave her a wide grin and got to her feet. She walked past the girl, who was much smaller than her. The door slammed shut once she was out of the room.

 _Goodbye, Clint._

"So, what's the reason you brought me here?" Natasha asked Steve Rogers. It was five days since Natasha's last conversation with Clint. She and Steve were at a nearby restaurant together.

"This is solely a Cheer-You-Up thing," Steve explained.

"It's always a Cheer-Me-Up Thing, Rogers." Natasha placed her elbows on the table and smirked, "Or are you just too scared to ask me out directly?"

"Nat," He started, "I am not too scared."

"Too shy, then," It was neither a question nor a comment.

"Too busy." He corrected her.

Natasha laughed.

"I – okay, Natasha; it's a date if you want it to be." He shrugged.

"I'd do anything to get my mind off of Clint," She drank a bit of her smoothie quietly, admiring the golden lights that twinkled, embedded into the ceiling. "I'm not going to label this outing right now. I'll leave that for myself to decide, later on, Steve."

"Oh, I'm scared of later on, then," Steve said. She grinned sweetly.

"So, any updates on Barnes?" She asked, twirling her hair around a finger.

"Well, I've got a few leads. None who are directly involved with him," Steve replied. "Just a few Russian thugs."

"Have you ever thought of Clint being a lead?" Natasha said.

"Clint," Steve's eyes widened, "Why would he be involved with Bucky?"

Natasha shrugged, "Whenever I brought it up with him he was silent and didn't reply. And he was nowhere to be seen when we were being pursued by the Soldier."

Steve nodded, "Natasha, you don't know for sure..."

"He can very well be a cold lead!" Natasha snapped. She felt like crying again, but she bit her lip hard. She had no tears left for Clint. She was not a crybaby. Natasha tasted a bit of blood.

"Nat, I know you're upset," Steve said, "But a time like this is no excuse to turn on your teammate. Clint is going to be better. He's going to be perfectly fine."

"Except..."

"Except?"

"Except, I'm not..." She shook her head and looked down. "Uhm, I'm fine Steve." She smiled. A sick feeling was in her stomach. "Tell me... Tell me more about him."

"Clint is going to be recruited again tomorrow morning. He cannot wait to leave the hospital. He hates it there. He wants to fly off and be free, like a bird."

Natasha chuckled. "Steve, I must say-"

Then, her phone rang. She picked it up quickly. Nick Fury. **What does he want now?**

"Steve, I was going to say, thank you." She smiled and kissed his forehead.

Then she accepted the call.

"Tasha," Nick said, "I suppose you'd like to see Clint's new home... His Safe House..."

 _Safe House?_

The helicopter's blades whipped around. Natasha heard them whooshing over her head quickly. She leaned out of the helicopter, looking down. The "Safe House" looked so small, almost resembling a tiny porcelain dollhouse. The breeze ruffled the shrubbery surrounding it.

"So, this is his house? His Safe House," She yelled at Nick over the winds that were swept up by the dancing blades. She wasn't sure of anything just yet.

"Everybody has their safe haven. This happens to be-"

"In his damn imagination," Natasha brusquely finished for him.

"I was gonna say 'this is his haven,' Natasha." Fury said shoddily.

"Sure you were," She said and glanced out of the dusty window once again.

Nick landed the chopper onto the ground and Nat scrambled out right as the blades were coming to a halt.

"He lives here?" She didn't wait for an answer as she dashed across the sharp stone pathway. A sweet white mailbox with the name Barton painted onto it with a child's handwriting was a little bend. Natasha frowned at it.

 _Laura must have terrible handwriting,_ she thought to herself, almost laughing aloud.

"This is his house." Fury said loud enough for her to hear. Natasha reached the door and looked back at him. She was waiting for a confirmation. "Go ahead, Woman."

She jabbed her thumb into the doorbell. A pleasant bell chime filled the home. The red door swung open.

A little girl with dark pigtails looked up at Natasha for a moment, with big brown eyes. She grinned in pleasure.

"Auntie Nat is back!" She shouted. Natasha twisted her mouth in confusion.

A young woman appeared in the halls. She smiled widely with her thin lips, causing reedy laughter lines to draw across her face.

Laura – it was Laura Barton without any doubt.

"Laura," Natasha smiled widely. It was obvious the little girl and Laura both thought that they knew the ginger-haired woman at their doorstep - Natasha saw no reason why she shouldn't play along, to pretend that she knew them as well.

"Nat, where've you been?" Laura pulled her into a tight hug. "I've been waiting forever to see you again."

"You know that my work keeps me busy," Natasha smiled.

Laura glanced at Nat's pink blouse and khakis, "You look very different without your black spandex."

"Yeah, you look cooler with the spy suit on." A boy's voice said from behind Nat. She looked around. A tall, lanky boy put down his baseball and bat, pushing his ball-cap away from his grey eyes.

"I'm sure I do." Natasha couldn't help but chuckle.

"Cooper, no muddy shoes in the house," Laura reminded her son.

 _So, the boy's name is 'Cooper.'_ Natasha picked up from Laura.

Cooper told Laura that he didn't go into the mud.

"Cooper, bud, nice to see you again," Natasha told him with a fake smile.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "You too."

"Lila, why don't you turn off the TV?" Laura said to the pigtailed brunette. The young girl ran into the home.

 _Lila – that was the little girl's name._ Natasha grinned, getting the hang of this easily.

"Nick, you didn't say anything about Clint having kids," Natasha said. She was back at the Headquarters, pacing around her office. Nick looked up at her circumspectly.

"I told you what I had to. You didn't need to know any more." He answered.

"This is Clint we're talking about..." She thought for a bit, "Does he think they're his kids?" She asked him.

"Yes," Nick replied.

"Who's their real father?" She crossed her arms and stood in front of Nick.

He didn't respond.

"Did you... Did you reprogram Lila and Cooper too?" She glared at him.

"Look at me."

Natasha glanced at him. He held her gaze.

"Do you think I'd do that?" Nick said. She really wanted to look away.

"It depends on the circumstances."

Natasha slid her feet into her glistening red pointe shoes. The ballet was a routine she had picked up from the Red Room; she danced whenever her mind was troubled.

Right now, she was alone.

Nobody was around but her thoughts, the little voices in her head that kept her company.

 _Hello, Natashka._

 _Is everything alright?_

Laughter.

She closed her eyes, blocking them out. She had come to terms that she will never truly get rid of them. But she could forget them for a while.

She could forget everything for a while.

She danced with graceful twirls and nimble, dizzying moves. It was like light twinkling on the surface of the water. All the bad left her thoughts – it was gone.

She smiled, feeling as if she were in a dream.

But, like most of her dreams, it turned into a nightmare.

 **night·mare** /ˈnītˌmer/ _noun_

An ugly memory that resurfaces in her sleep...


End file.
